Rainstorm
by Medusa Davenport
Summary: Reposted from a different pen name. Ken sits on a rooftop in the rain, and Ran comes up to talk to him. Swearing, light Ran x Ken. Oneshot.


**I do not own them.**

**Beware swearing. Again, I will not apologize for homosexuality. I maintain my position that all homophobes should be castrated. Or at least get their asses kicked.**

It was raining. Like, really, really raining. Pouring down like cold shower spray, soaking clothes in a moment or two. The kind of weather you could seriously bring your shampoo and soap out and fucking bathe in.

He didn't care.

Didn't care that it was ruining his leather jacket, that his clothes were soaked through. Didn't care that he was freezing and would get sick, probably pneumonia. Didn't care about any of that, because it was so fucking petty at that moment. Nothing felt worth it. And the rain was so cool, soaking into him, calming him, that he was afraid to leave it.

"Hidaka."

The voice broke into his thoughts and he turned, sodden brown hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks, water running over his face in lieu of tears, shirt and pants sticking to the skin they covered because they were so drenched. He looked at the redhead addressing him with an apathetic impassiveness.

"Ken?"

The voice was softer, using his given name, and the redhead stepped closer, out onto the roof, shutting the door behind him. For a brief moment, a flare of lightning illuminated the pale face of the advancing man, showing his delicate, almost feminine features and beautiful dark purple eyes. Amethyst. They looked like cut amethyst most of the time, with the hard glint and edge of a cut gem.

"Yeah?" he replied listlessly, turning away and looking out over the city from where he sat.

"Uh…are you…are you okay?" Concern vaguely laced the words.

Ken glanced at him briefly, his expression sardonic. "Since when do you give a fuck?" His cynical words did not dispel the look he'd offered.

The redhead sighed. "Don't be difficult, please, Ken."

A harsh, sarcastic laugh. Bitter. "So I'm your fucking pet now, Aya? 'Don't be difficult, Ken.' Who the fuck do you think you are, my mother?" he spat.

The amethyst eyes fixed on Ken, but they weren't hard and sharp-edged. Not anymore. Not in the storm. They were softened around the edges, full of something. Words that needed to be said, that were trying to come out, but couldn't, and there was the hurt. A pale, elegant hand started to move from Aya's side, towards his companion, like he wanted to touch him, but it stopped, fingers clenching into a fist, and fell limp back to its former position.

"No."

Just one word. One simple, simple word. It wasn't the word, so much as the tone, that made Ken turn. It was the fact that Aya didn't snap it. He said it softly. _Gently._ The order of the fucking universe seemed to dissipate at that moment, as Ken stared into his companion's eyes.

They stared at each other for a very, very long time, and then they looked away. Silence descended, except for the splash of rain pouring down and the crashing of thunder overhead.

"Why are you here?" asked Ken quietly, looking up again. Not bitter, not hostile, not apathetic.

"What do you mean?" returned Aya, in a similarly quiet voice. He met Ken's eyes as he spoke.

They were sitting now, close together, each one taking the comfort of the small heat from the other's body.

Ken shook his head and looked down for a moment, at his knees.

"I'm not sure." He looked up, eyes meeting with Aya's. "What did you want me to mean?"

"Because…"

"Why are you doing this?" whispered Ken.

"Doing what?"

"This." A gesture indicating himself. _Why are you here, with me, being the friend I need you to be?_

Aya looked away, letting his hair fall and hide his face. "Because… I might care."

"Care?" Ken repeated the word softly, his eyes wide and unblinking as they stared at the man beside him.

"About you." The redhead stole a glance at Ken and then looked away. Feelings weren't his strong suit. At least, discussing them.

"You do?" he asked, awed. His eyes were glistening now, and there was warmer water on his face, not just the cold rainwater. He wondered why the rain would warm up so randomly. Just to fuck with his mind.

Aya nodded once, uncomfortably, sharply. He shifted his weight around, nervous. Anxiety was something he'd always been able to stave off. To force into coldness, or to anger. But not that night, in the rain. In that downpour.

"I…I'm glad…" said Ken, so softly it was barely audible. He sounded sort of surprised. Like he wouldn't have thought he'd like the idea of… this as much as he was enjoying it.

"I'm not going to buy you flowers," said Aya, suddenly. Sharply. Trying to sound as surly as he could.

"I'm not gonna buy them for you either," answered Ken, trying to sound aggressive and rude.

"And I'm not going to take you to the park or hold your hand in public."

"Neither am I. I'm still going to hit you when you really piss me off, too."

"I'm still going to hit you back."

"Good."

"Hn."

Ken looked at Aya as the redhead looked at him, their eyes meeting. His lips curved upwards slightly, fondly, and his eyes seemed to have more life in them than they did when Aya first came to see him.

"The shop counts as being public, too," said Ken suddenly.

Aya nodded his head once, sharply. "So do any people."

"I won't clean my room."

"We'll sleep in mine."

They stopped speaking, at that moment, and just stared at each other. The rain ran down their faces, soaking into their clothes and hair. Ken's jacket had to be ruined by now. They were both shivering, and they suddenly noticed it.

Aya stood up, suddenly, and took a few steps towards the door. "We should probably go inside now," he said quietly as he moved, keeping his head down. Eyes hidden from Ken.

Ken, who was still just staring at him. Who blinked when he heard the words, and sort of woke up. And then he was standing, hurrying over to grab Aya's arm before he could get away. Jerking him around to face him, so they were staring at each other again, Ken's face tilted slightly up and Aya's slightly down.

It wasn't one of them who moved. It was both of them, at the same time, suddenly embracing, kissing, their mouths hungry. Lips and tongues moving against each other, consuming, demanding. Passionate. Hungry. Desperate.

But not alone.

Not anymore, as they kissed in the rain. They had each other.

**Here, I will state that if you visit my web page (check profile for URL), you can read the complete version. This is the toned-down, I-know-some-fucker-will-bitch-about-sex version, so I'm following the rules… on this site. My site has _no_**** rules.******


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